


Blood Moon

by VerityGrahams



Series: The Houses Competition - Year Seven - Ravenclaw [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Blood and Gore, Blood moon, F/M, Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerityGrahams/pseuds/VerityGrahams
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over, and Bill Weasley looks up to the sky. A Blood Moon is nestled into the great cosmic blanket that wraps itself around the world. But the Blood Moon isn't a sign of hope or new beginnings; she sings rage, vengeance and the lust for blood. Bill Weasley is about to find out the hard way.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Charlie Weasley
Series: The Houses Competition - Year Seven - Ravenclaw [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119044
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for The Houses Competition.
> 
> House: Ravenclaw  
> Class: Potions  
> Prompts:   
> [Character] Bill Weasley  
> [Location] The Astronomy Tower (during an astronomical event)  
> Wordcount: Max 1989
> 
> Triggers: Some gore
> 
> Beta: Theoretical Optimist, KeepSmiling, and Lun - Thank you guys

The sky was like rich, inky-blue velvet that covered the world, and as dark as it was, there was a warmth to be felt. Seated in the great cosmic blanket was a full moon, larger than usual, and it glowed with a crimson hue—a blood moon.

Bill Weasley stood on a staircase alone. He looked out of the window and tried to focus on the stars. They were like pinpricks of hope that shone out of the darkness. Bill was reminded of something his mother had told him when he was a child. 

_ “Do you see those stars in the sky, Bill? They’re our lost loved ones, like your uncles, and they’re always looking down, guiding you through even the darkest night.” _

With Hogwarts in ruins, the sky was the only thing worth looking at. Bill continued to climb the stone staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower, his shoulders slouched under the weight of the night’s loss. There was one star that he hadn’t seen before, small and faint, as though it had only just been born. It glimmered dimly behind Ursa Major. He hoped it was Fred. 

Bill’s hand ran across the rough, wooden balustrade, debris occasionally blocking his way. There was a broken candelabra, helmets from suits of armour, stone, glass, and sometimes holes in the steps themselves. 

As he reached the summit, he relished the caress of the light breeze. Each breath was chilling, refreshing, and somehow, even as high up as he was, he could smell the fragrant yellow bushes, Gorse, that grew at the base of the tower.

The tower was a vast, circular room, open to the night more than a third of the way around. A brass handrail encircled the chamber, and at regular intervals, there were carved wooden stands where students could place their telescopes and notebooks. Constellations decorated the domed ceiling, and each star glittered with gold leaf. 

It was the perfect place for solitude. 

Bill leant on the handrail, looking up at the blood moon. As he looked up at her, he could almost feel her speaking to him. Many things had changed after Greyback’s attack: his diet, hearing, his temper; Remus had warned him about all of it. Though he hadn’t been warned about this  _ connection _ , and it hadn’t happened during any other full moon. 

He shook his head and turned his back on the full moon. Instead, he focused on the rafters of the great castle. There was a part of the castle that was untouched by the massacre. It was as though Hogwarts were still standing, whole and unbroken. A small smile crept onto his face, and he just basked in the alien feeling of peace. 

The silence was broken, not suddenly but slowly. Bill became aware of the sound of laboured breathing. His hand gripped his wand, and the sense of tranquillity slipped away quicker than it came. Suppressing his own breath, he placed a clammy hand over his mouth. His heart hammered in his ears, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the  sounds of someone lurking in the shadows.

_ “No. No more, please,”  _ he thought. Bill raised his wand, pointing it in the direction of the noise.

In a far corner, beneath one of the arched supports was what had once been considered a storage area. Now, it was a dark recess, and it seemed to be the perfect place to mount an unexpected attack. The blackness beyond the archway allowed for more than one hidden assailant. Bill swallowed, standing up straighter, calming himself, ready for whatever was to come.

A giggle  broke the tense silence. It was light and happy. 

Relief washed over Bill, and his head tipped back into the night. His grin was a caricature, a parody to the panic that he had felt moments before. He turned back around and leaned on the bannister, searching for the newest star—Fred. 

“Oooh.” This time it was a moan, desperate and wanting. 

“Shh!” someone said. 

Bill tried not to hear the sounds of pleasure from somewhere nearby. The heavy breathing became muffled. Moans were suffocated. Bill knew what was going on, and he felt guilt at listening in. He could hardly blame the happy couple, though—the end of the war needed to be celebrated, which was as good a way as any. 

His wand slipped into his pocket, and he tiptoed towards the tower’s exit, suppressing a grin.

“Ah! Ch-Charlie.”

Bill paused, a snigger slipping past his tight lips.

“Someone’s there,” said Charlie. 

“Pourquoi? Non. Not dere, mon frère. I-if we get caught!”

Instantly, Bill knew who it was, and he turned back, facing the dark alcove, wanting the truth but hoping to  be proved wrong. The panting and pleading became clearer the closer that he got. 

Bill looked into the corner. T he sounds stopped instantly. 

“Ch-Charlie?  _ L-L-Lumos _ ,” he stuttered, but no light came from the wand in his unsteady hand. “Lumos.”

The darkness vanished, and they were illuminated by Bill’s wand, by the stars, and the red glow of the blood moon. Charlie and Fleur were a tangle of limbs, their red and white hair mingling together, just as his and Fleur’s had many times before. 

Bill’s lip trembled, but no tears fell. He heard his wand drop, clattering on the stone floor, but his eyes were again focused heavenward. 

The dark blanket was still in place, and the stars still shone, but Bill didn’t look for the Fred-Star; he focused on the large blood-red moon. It was larger than it should be. He remembered what they called it in astronomy class: a super moon. The red glow radiated, and it looked angry. 

Bill could feel it. 

He could hear soft feet, treading lightly on the stone floor behind him. “Bill, chéri,  s’il vous plaît. Let me explain...” Her voice was timid and stilted.

Charlie cleared his throat, his voice shaking. “It didn’t mean anything. It’s just... Well, the war, the battle. It was intense. It just happened. I promise—it won’t happen again... Bill?” 

Bill looked at the bright red moon, and Charlie and Fleur’s excuses faded to a mumble. Inside him, rage bubbled uncontrollably, and suddenly that’s all there was in the blackness. The blood moon sang a sweet song filled with fury and vengeance. She whispered into his heart about the comfort of warm blood and the taste of hot flesh. Her lullaby fuelled him, ensuring him that nothing else could sate his thirst. 

The moon seemed to grow, and Bill was trapped somewhere in the back of his mind. He had heard the rumours about the blood moon, but now he knew it held a special sway over him. He tensed. The red siren in the sky consumed him, so much so, that he didn’t notice the changes right away. 

Eventually, his bones began to break, his flesh and muscles grew, shrank, and shifted, reshaping all of him. He felt the agonising itch of billions of hairs sprouting from his fresh skin. He felt the excruciating pain of sharp claws breaking through the soft pads that had replaced his fingers. 

He screamed and then it was a growl. 

Bill was locked away. In the back of his mind, he was caged, screaming and begging for freedom, unable to control, unable to see, but painfully aware of what he had just become. 

Everything went black.

* * *

Bill woke with aching limbs, a sore jaw and gashes covering his chest. His robes were ripped and torn, barely hanging off his throbbing shoulders. His eyes were closed tightly, focusing, thinking.

He rummaged through his memories, studying each horrific moment of the battle, thinking that surely this explained his pain, his injuries, and the terrible ache in his heart. He blinked away tears as he thought of the ‘Fred-Star’. 

Nothing explained his injuries, his torn robes, or the blood. He was gazing at the new star, thinking of Fred, and hoping the silly myth was true. 

Then his mind was filled with the sounds of her moans, her desire, but not for him. 

_“Ch-Charlie,”_ _she whispered in her distinctive French lilt._

He remembered.

_ “It didn’t mean anything…” _

It meant something to Bill. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and then holding his aching head. As he moved his arms, he felt a gash open on his bicep. Bill winced as he yanked his arm down, causing the skin to split even further. He glanced at his arm, fresh blood trickled down his arm and mingled with older dried clots.

_ “How?” _ he wondered.

The shirt he had been wearing hung in tatters, stained by what he presumed was his own blood, and there was splatter that he hoped wasn’t someone else’s. Panic rose in him like a tidal wave, and his hands started shaking. 

He looked up, the bright sun shone in the sky, and there in the distance, was the moon, no longer full, no longer speaking to him, and no longer red. 

The blood from the moon was instead splattered around the Astronomy Tower. Spray covered the walls, and as he looked to the floor, he saw a thick, congealed puddle. 

“No. No. No.” Snatches of the horrific night flashed before his eyes, evidence, at least to him, of what he had done.

In the puddle lay a scared, bloody mess that had once been Fleur. Her once vibrant, white hair had lost its sheen; it was dull, lifeless, a translucent grey. Her once creamy, pearlescent skin was now chalky, and her rosebud lips were now kissed deathly blue. Her eyes, once icy blue when angry but a deeper cobalt when she said “I love you”, were vacant. 

Fleur was gone. 

Beside her was Charlie. Scars had always covered his body, but now they were hidden, covered by the slashes of torn skin and flesh. He lay there, depraved, nothing covered, his dignity stolen. 

“Why?” He pulled Fleur into his arms, covering himself in her blood in the process. He kissed her head. Tears streamed down his face, as he cried out in anguish, the pain and realisation coursing through him. 

“Bill! What happened... “ 

His head snapped up, like a guilty child, he frantically looked about, and then he saw her. His mother stood with her eyes wide, her chin trembling, and her eyes threatening tears. Remarkably, she steeled herself. His father stood beside her, and his expression warped into a twisted combination of grief and horror.

“I-I…” Bill stared at her, brushing the hair out of his face, he smeared more of Fleur’s blood across his face. 

“Wa—Was it Greyback?” she asked, a single tear slid down her cheek, all that was left after a year or more of agony.

They were surrounded by carnage, and Bill looked around, taking it all in. It was a werewolf attack. No one would debate that. He found himself shaking uncontrollably, unable to form the words.

“Bill, it’s okay!” Before he knew it, his father was there, his arms wrapped around him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, son. We’re here.”

Bill looked at his mother standing there, frozen, watching him hold his dead wife, his dead brother lying beside him, all of them soaked in blood. The blood of the moon. 

“Mum… Charlie’s gone. All gone,” said Bill.

“No, no, no!” Molly sobbed, pulling Charlie towards her, his weight dead. “It’s okay, Charlie. Mummy’s here now.” 

Her hands trembled as she pulled out her wand, waving and whispering unknown words. Slowly, skin knitted together, scars were forced formed, but Charlie’s eyes were unfocused, glassy, gone. 

Bill clung to his father, agonising sobs smothered by the familiar scent of his dad’s robes. He saw nothing. No moon, no new stars were blinking and guiding him through his now dark life.

“It’s okay,” Molly continued, stroking Charlie’s hair out of his face. “ _ Renevate.” _

Charlie didn’t wake. 

_ “Renevate!” _ she shouted.

But Charlie didn’t wake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


End file.
